EDIT: This is a re-post of my HNT # 4. Just to goose up the newbies on what is posible. My first few had long involved stories… that I kinda liked. I think the point is not so much skin- though that is good too but it’s more about getting to know the person. So there! Read it and weep. It was first featured Aug. 25.
The rogue is fast coming upon us… so if you still want to get in on HNT @ the Rogue… send the lovely Paul an email with your link and you will be added ti that blogroll. His email is nekkid@roguefestival.com.
Other than that… Cheers and Happy HNT!
Oh p.s…. there are new Rogue banners for the stealing at the Rogue site! And Foxy won the “name the eye contest”! Armin!
Posting this HNT contribution early, as I have three and a half weeks more of gainful employment left and I want to leave on my own terms – instead of getting fired for going in late. My last 3 posts included pics and stories of Jimmy, Audrey and Stan. Don’t have a name for my bloodshot left eye… maybe you can help me name it.
Right now, most of you are jumping to the obvious conclusions as to why my eyes are bloodshot. My eyes have been bloodshot since I was 10 years old. This was the result of swimming. Swimming in chlorinated pools. Swimming in the sea. Swimming in jungle streams.
In fact, many a birthday as a boy in Malaysia was spent swimming in jungle streams. Most kids had birthday parties – I had birthday picnics in the jungle with my friends. My parents would pack up us kids (friends and cousins) into a couple of cars and drive out into the jungle outside the city.
Getting there was half the fun. A hard left off the main highway, there would be a dirt road that veered into the jungle for about half a mile. When the dirt road ended, we tumbled out of the car and hiked in several hundred yards heading toward the sound of a jungle stream. Monkeys would be jibber-jabbering in the trees as we hurried down the jungle path. The closer we got, the louder the sound of the stream… the less jibbering of monkeys.
Finally, the thick jungle around us would magically seem to open up on our intended destination. A picnic spot would be picked on the banks. Mats spread and us kids excitedly jumped into the cold clear waters to frolic. My father would always caution us with the same instructions. “If you need to kenching (pee) go downstream… don’t do it in the jungle.” If one of my not-yet-hip-to-the-jungle friends would quizz “Why not the jungle?”, my father would launch into a gentle lecture about “respecting the spirits.” This would instantly ignite a barrage of “What spirits? Why?” among the kids. His eyes would twinkle and with a sly smile he would say, “I’ll tell you after lunch.” He always kept his word.
Food was usually of the street variety. Nasi Lemak, coconut rice topped with cucumber, eggs and a good hot sambal, served on a banana leaf. Drinks – iced home-made lime juice. Papaya with a squeeze of lime for dessert.
After lunch and tired after swimming, we would lay on the mats under the shade. My father would then tell us about how each living thing had a spirit living in it. That if you did not respect the trees and the rocks and the jungle you were being disrespectful to the spirits… and you would have to pay. This was usually his cue to dive into a couple of jungle “ghost stories” that would scare us even on a sunny afternoon.
These excursions would usually begin at about 9 in the morning and we would leave the jungle by 3 in the afternoon. The cars driving back usually packed with sleepy tired children. I onced asked my mother what inspired them to organize these birthday picnics. “Economics.”, she would say quite simply. “None of those birthday picnics cost your father and me more than 50 ringgit.”
And the bloodshot eyes? Our family doctor informed me years later that it was a part of a protective coating developed naturally to protect my eyes from the different waters I swam in as a kid. The salt of the sea, the chlorine of the swimming pools and the minerals plus some animal pee in the jungle streams. Someone should have told them where to kenching.
For more half-nekkid thursday visit the great Emperor Osbasso’s site.